


Dawn

by xantissa



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Racial prejudice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:56:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in five hours (31-07-2008)<br/>AU, s-f: He never planned on coming back…<br/>A/N: A year ago I read Psion written by freeradical9 and fell completly in love with it. Check it out or this story wont make any sense! Beyong being a PWP http://community.livejournal.com/springkink/398596.html?view=7330308&style=mine#t7330308 I waited for a sequel that never happened and finally decided to write one myself. With permission of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dawn

It’s been almost a full year since the time he was in Little Tougenkyou. The slums didn’t look any better from what he remembered; the youkai pointlessly aggressive and the half-breed scuttling around like cockroaches, trying to remain invisible. 

There was nothing to catch his interest here, no place to hide for a human-looking creature like him, nothing to gain from coming back here.

Nothing but that man, the psion he met eleven months ago.

_Micah._

He shifted his position on the very edge of the building. His toes were sticking out over the edge of the roof; his hands were in his pockets to keep warm and mobile, yet he felt no fear of falling. He watched the youkai scurrying on the street six stories below and felt nothing but vague contempt for their weakness. The youkai thought themselves to be so strong, so powerful in comparison to humans. To him, they were insignificant, unable to threaten or even touch him.

In rare moments, when his adrenaline levels were low enough and his body finally quiet, he felt disgust and shame at himself, for such thoughts. They were just people, ordinary people with their faults and weaknesses. It was him who was a freak, a disgusting caricature of a human being. A tool created simply for the sole purpose of killing. And kill he did. He thought about the last eleven months; he was probably a better killing machine than even his creators expected. 

Everything had a red tint in the slow, cold dusk of this season. The night was coming quickly, painting everything in bloody colors. 

For a moment everything went red, the windows in the opposite building reflecting the setting sun, washing the streets in rust and crimson.

_Like blood_

J.D. felt his heartbeat quicken and his breath change. This color always had a peculiar effect on him, probably an effect of the gene manipulations done to his body. He pulled the night glasses from his pocket and slid them on, making his world appear in greens and yellows.

Micah had red hair. Red hair and red eyes with slit pupils, an unmistakable proof of his mixed heritage.

He touched J.D., reached him on a level that he didn’t think was even possible. Even now, so many months later, he could still vividly remember the sudden change in perspective. How it felt to experience both sides of his touch. Action and reaction. How it felt to know what his partner was feeling. That kind of sex was much more than anything he experienced before.

_It was terrifying._

It was probably the first time J.D. felt fear. His life never had much meaning, whatever mission was assigned to him, he survived not because he wanted to, but because he was always stronger and faster than any opponent. 

That closeness, however, that unbearable sensation of something reaching for his mind, into his mind, was terrifying, exhilarating… addictive.

Sex never caught him so off guard before.

No one ever caught him so off guard either. 

Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could feel that slender, strong body stretched under him, taste the tobacco on the redhead's lips and feel the oddest touch so deep inside him it was like the sweetest agony.

He tried to fool himself into thinking that he could forget the man, move on, find a life for himself outside of the Lab.

It was just an illusion, a vain attempt on his part.

He was dangerous.

He was deadly.

He wasn’t human.

He wasn’t good, either.

In all of his life, he couldn’t remember the time when he wanted something. Anything. Now he wanted the half-breed.

He shifted on his precarious perch, not really admitting to himself the thrill he felt at the perfect control he had of his body. There were things the doctors either hid from him or didn’t know about. Things he learned during his year on the run.

He was even more of a freak than anyone could expect from a bio-engineered humanoid weapon.

His eyes caught the familiar figure leaving one of the cheap pubs that littered the area like trash. He came to Little Tougenkyou four days ago. It took him three hours to first track down the address and then the wayward redhead. For four days, J.D. kept following the half-breed, silently tracking his usual route from home to work, from work to the pub and then back to the small apartment. He couldn’t decide just what it was that stopped him from contacting Micah, but day after day he found himself following the man from a distance. 

Micah hadn't really change. He was still very tall, a little bit too thin, with shoulder length hair obscuring his face when he walked like this, his shoulders hunched. There was a kind of melancholy in his steps, the slow, measured moves that carried him through the crowd in that odd rhythm of his. 

His limiter and image enhancer had to work quite well if he hadn’t sensed J.D. yet and the way he looked... J.D. was surprised to realize he truly hated it. Hated the way his ears were elongated, sticking out from the mass of red hair, or the way his face gained that angular, vaguely animalistic tilt to it. Even he could remember the way his face looked lost in the pleasure he gave Micah, how his oddly colored eyes fogged over like old blood and stared at him with slit pupils. That flushed, sensual image was burned into J.D.’s mind so deep it could never be forgotten.

His tinted glasses let him watch the now familiar figure walk slowly through the dark streets, but they took away the beauty of his colors.

J.D. spilled a lot of blood even before he met Micah. He always found it disgusting and enchanting, arousing even. It spoke to his cruel, animalistic side like nothing else. Since he met Micah, he realized that it never again looked quite as good, quite as right. It never reached just that perfect shade of red, the shade of his hair. 

Sometimes, if he closed his eyes he could still feel how it felt, cool and silky, sliding though his fingers like pure sin.

One night. One round of sex with a complete stranger had left him enchanted forever. Like a spell that never quite wore off. Some days, he was filled with longing that could tear his very soul apart, if he even had such a thing. Other days, when it didn’t matter how many willing bodies he fucked the restlessness wouldn’t quite go away, he cursed the half-breed for doing this to him. For binding him when he just found freedom.

Most days though, he just wanted to see if his memories were right. If Micah really felt so good, tasted so intoxicating. It seemed impossible that sex with that particular stranger could be so much better than anything before or since.

He watched the redhead disappear behind a corner and moved. With barely a move, he let his feet lose their purchase and he plummeted down, feet first. The air rushed around him, tugging at his hair and clothes, roaring in his ears. He could feel his adrenaline spiking and heartbeat changing. He took a deep breath, reached for the energy reserves that were always hidden deep within him and redirected it towards his feet and legs.

He landed in a light crouch, silent as a cat, absorbing the force of impact into his won chi energy and straightened within the same moment. Pulling the hood of his sweatshirt from beneath his leather jacket, he directed his steps after Micah.

There was a kind of guilty pleasure in following the unaware man. Something deep inside him, something the doctors tried very hard to bring forth, shivered in delight of the hunt. Somewhere along the way, Micah got imprinted on his senses as prey. 

_His prey._

_Only his._

He licked his lips and followed Micah though the narrow, still more than busy streets. Besides the hooded sweatshirt, he made no other effort to hide his looks, yet no one looked at him twice. No one tried to stop him or even get in his way. He heard that youkai were more in tune with their instincts than humans. Maybe they sensed that trying to stop him wasn’t a good idea.

He was a predator in a sea of sheep, and even though some part of him despised them for this weakness, for making it so damn easy to kill them, another part of him trembled in fear. 

_Please, don’t make me kill you._

As all the days before, no one came to him as he walked the youkai slums, trailing after the half-breed. It was becoming almost familiar, this broken streetlight here and the boarded over shop at the next corner.

He watched Micah open the front door to his apartment building and then pause. The younger man, his face changed to look like a full youkai, looked over his shoulder, scanning the streets. His brows were furrowed and his hand clenched tightly on the door he still held open.

He was afraid.

J.D. pressed his lips together. That wasn’t his intention. He was so sure, so damn convinced, that he could follow the half-breed around without him noticing. After all, he prepared himself. Studied whatever materials he could get his hands on about psions, half-breeds and limiters. He was sure he got the distance right.

Obviously, he was wrong. It irritated him. He didn’t like making mistakes.

It didn’t matter how enjoyable trailing after Micah had been, a harmless exercise really, it didn’t hide the fact that he was simply scared of facing the redhead. It was ironic, just how important it was to him to be accepted by the man he saved so long ago.

He glanced at the info-screen transmitting latest news 24/7. 

He might not be welcomed by Micah. If the man remembered him at all, if he was as smart as he seemed that day, he had to know, had to realize what J.D. had done.

The air pressure changed suddenly, an oddly wet and earthy smell filled the air around him and J.D. realized it was going to rain any minute. Pulling his hands from his pockets, he directed his steps towards the old building. It was time he stopped avoiding the issue. Better finish it now, before he caused damage to the first person who treated him like a human after knowing just what he was.

The cheap electronic lock gave after a few seconds, J.D.’s state of the art, miniature lock-pick descrambled the puny alarm system without a hitch. J.D. was particularly pleased with this toy. He pilfered if from the Lab after making sure they wouldn’t be producing anyone like him. 

The staircase was narrow and surprisingly clean. He could smell the dampness of the walls and the unmistakable smell of old concrete, but he expected much worse. He climbed to the first floor on silent feet and paused at the last step. There were only two apartments at each floor. Micah lived in number 7. 

The corridor was completely dark, the last rays of dusk long gone, but that didn’t matter to him. His glasses let him see in near total darkness.

The door with number 7 was slightly ajar.

His heart thumped excitedly, half fear, half anticipation setting his body on fire and twisting his gut in a way he never quite felt before. It seemed that at least that thing was true to his memories. It was enough that he got close to the redhead and he experienced things he never had before. 

He felt… _alive._

He considered the open door. And invitation or a trap? 

Both probably. 

It seemed he underestimated the redhead. 

There was no way he could know what to expect on the other side of that door. He was risking so much more than just his life.

He thought about the images that haunted him for months on end. How that perfect, pale skin looked in the moonlight, how Micah’s lips parted open when he pushed inside for the first time. How that incredible heat felt squeezing him, caressing him, giving him pleasure he couldn’t find in anyone else. How that curious, honest mind felt _inside_ him.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, an odd weight in his stomach.

The room was as dark as the rest of the building, the bed, messy and lavishly big, was crowded into the space under the opposite wall, a small table and two chairs under the window that was barely four feet from the constantly working info-screen that flickered every four minutes.

He could sense someone to his right but deliberately looked over the layout of the place, his hands hanging loosely at his sides even after he heard the unmistakable sound of gun being cocked.

“Who...” The question, thrown in an angry and impatient voice was cut short as he turned his face towards the owner of the room.

There, standing in the entrance to the bathroom, was Micah. Still dressed in jeans and an old, faded tee-shirt, he held a contraband revolver pointed directly at J.D.’s head.

He looked like himself again, the elongated ears and pointed teeth gone, leaving soft skin and rounder, small ears behind. His red eyes caught the sparse light from the info-screen showing the slit pupils that expanded now. His hair, red as the warmest blood, was falling in soft tresses around his face. It was longer now, almost reaching Micah’s collarbones. His arms, bared by the ratty tee, were well developed, stronger than J.D. remembered.

Or maybe, he just remembered Micah like he wanted to remember him. As something ethereal, wonderful and not exactly real.

But he wasn’t ethereal. He was strong, earthy and now obviously shocked to the core.

J.D. noticed that the redhead took off both the limiter and the image enhancer. It baffled him until he remembered watching the man fight multiple opponents. He moved like water, avoiding blows that no one else would avoid, expecting attacks from opponents he couldn’t even see.

It occurred to J.D. then that Micah could use his psi as a weapon too.

“I told you I would remember the address.” He said quietly, leaving his arms hanging at his sides in the most unthreatening way he could.

“… J.D.?” Asked the half-breed, still keeping the gun trained on J.D, eyes still suspicious.

“Ah.” It occurred to J.D. what the problem was. 

Slowly, he raised his left hand up, letting the sleeve slip back and expose three slim, metallic bands on his wrist. The electronic lock-pick, data band and psi scrambler. Slowly, as not to startle the other man, J.D. turned the scrambler off and instantly the wariness and suspicion in Micah’s eyes changed to surprise and something else… something he couldn’t name.

“J.D.” It wasn’t a question but a statement this time.

Suddenly, after stalking the other man for days and thinking about him for months, J.D. found himself at a loss of what to say. He just stared at the other man, half aware that constant hunger he always kept a tight lid on was rapidly clawing its way up.

He wanted to talk with Micah, to explain things.

But he was never taught how to express his feelings. It was an unnecessary skill and until he met Micah, he never actually needed it.

He realized he was supposed to say something, to greet, apologize… or something. 

But all he could do was stare at the way the soft, red hair swayed around the long, pale throat. The faint beat of Micah’s frantic pulse under the vulnerable skin. All he could think about was to lick that place, to sink his teeth into the warmth of the other man.

Micah exhaled long and loud, the tension leaving his body along with the air. He let the gun down and put it on the dresser with an oddly loud thump.

“Shit man. It’s been almost a year. I...” He tangled one of his hands into the mass of crimson hair.

J.D.’s breath caught. The color seemed even more perfect than in his memories.

Something tight and dark coiled in his stomach.

“I figured that you wouldn’t come here, you know?” Murmured the half-breed and moved towards him.

In a blinding instant of clarity J.D. knew what Micah was planning on doing and froze. His body trembled with the need to control the rising darkness inside him...

_Please. Please don’t touch me._

But it was too late already. Micah’s hand landed on his shoulder in a friendly pat and the redhead's eyes opened wide in shock as his psi probably connected to what was going on in J.D.’s mind. Faster than should be humanly possible, J.D. had them turned, Micah’s back pressed into the door, one of J.D.’s hands pressing on his shoulder, rending it immobile, the other fisted in that amazing hair while his lips pressed hard to the other man. J.D. let the hunger take him away as he kissed the half-breed, forced his tongue deep inside and tasted. He couldn’t get enough. He pressed his body as close as possible, tried to taste as much as possible. The heat he could feel coming from the other man was driving him insane, the hunger he couldn’t satiate for the last eleven months making him rub against the redhead like an animal in heat.

When he let go of those soft, inviting, now slightly swollen lips to taste that strong, corded neck they were both panting. Micah’s only mobile hand was clenched tightly in J.D.’s shirt. The pulse he felt beating wildly under his lips seemed to pick up even more, making him want to press his teeth against the vulnerable skin and bite. 

Micah let out a constant stream of curses as J.D. did what he wanted with that expanse of vulnerable skin, and even when J.D. let Micah have the mobility in his other arm, the only thing the redhead did was curl his own fingers into J.D.’s hair and throw his head back, even as J.D. pressed his teeth to insanely vulnerable places. 

In a rush, the bio-engineered man felt that odd something, that sensation of something reaching right into his mind. It felt just like he remembered. Honest and curious and kind of innocent. Just tiny threads seeking entrance rather than forcing in, promising rather than threatening.

He reached out for them welcoming them greedily, pulling more into himself even as he parted the other man’s thighs with his leg and pressed into the hot hardness he felt under the denim. It felt good, right, to hear the surprised gasp and then suddenly everything turned stereo. Each touch, each action he could feel from both sides now. He could feel the hard cock under the denim and he could feel just how good it was to have somebody pressing their thigh into the engorged flesh.

“Jesus...” Gasped Micah, his eyes already clouding, totally lost in the powerful hunger driving J.D.. “You... fuck… you…” 

J.D. didn’t say a word, just grabbed the slim hips and ground them together, shuddering in the overwhelming bliss. It seemed that Micah realized what he was doing, that he was using Micah’s own psi talent against him.

He licked a long, wet line along the still exposed throat, the jaw and then to the already swollen lips. “Forgive me..” He murmured desperately, pressing his tongue as deep as possible, needing to taste, to devour as much as possible of the other man to satiate the hunger that hounded him day and night for so damn long.

“Shit...” Micah’s ringers twisted in his hair, pulling painfully, but not pulling away. He cursed, but his body arched into J.D., his hips thrust in the rhythm J.D. set and his head was still thrown back to give J.D. better access.

“Yes,” Panted the redhead after they parted for breath.   
_Yes, damn you. Yes. Do it._

The words echoed in Micah’s mind. Like his own, just with a different flavor.

With one heave, J.D. threw both of them onto the bed that squeaked its protest loudly. Micah was on his back, J.D. kneeling between his thighs, hands everywhere at once. The need was almost blinding him; the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat and the echo of his touches. He grabbed the waistband of Micah’s jeans and pulled, too impatient to wait.

The jeans gave way like paper tearing easily.

He could hear in his mind the awe at this display of strength.

Not disgust, not fear. Just awe and want that fanned his own hunger even more. He didn’t even get to taking his own jacket off. Just tore enough clothing to get the most important parts naked. Somehow, he managed to take the small tube of lube out and squeeze its contents on his fingers. 

Micah’s bit his own wrist to keep himself quiet and spread his legs even wider as J.D. pressed his fingers to the tight opening. He didn’t have to ask if it was good or if it was okay to add another finger, the odd yet amazing echo of what Micah’s felt provided by his psi ability was guidance enough. He watched the way his skin flushed and his eyes glazed over when he pressed three fingers into the tight opening, hurrying as much as possible without hurting the man. 

The way Micah arched under him, the way his red, red hair fanned on the white sheets mesmerized him. It was impossible, to ever want anyone as much as he wanted the half-breed at the moment. His chest felt tight, his breathing labored and his cock so hard it was painful.

He pressed his fingers deeper, twisting them and Micah shuddered, arching his back, his cock heavy and full, leaving a trail of moisture on his own stomach.

_Now._

He could no longer separate whose thought it was, he was just glad that the waiting was over. Pulling his fingers out with a wet sound, he grabbed the redhead's hips and pulled them up on his thighs, over the cloth of his own pants; until he got the other man into position.

It was easy, tight but easy, to slip into the incredible heat.

Micah pressed his eyes closed and made an odd, muffled found as the head of J.D.’s cock pressed inside. Unable to watch any longer, J.D. pulled the abused wrist away from Micah’s lips and pinned it to the bed, bending down to capture those wet, swollen lips with his, forcing the redhead to moan into his mouth.

It was hard to think, almost impossible, with the dual sensations of taking and being taken. He knew just how hard to thrust, how deep to go to never cross that line between pain and desire. 

It could have been a minute or an eternity later when Micah arched with an almost painful squeal and came, his cock spurting white release on his hard stomach. It was all that was needed to push him over the edge too. 

They lay in a tangled heap for a while, letting their heartbeats slow down. J.D. felt the constant hunger satiated for the first time in a very, very long time and it made him languid. Slow and content to just lay there, half covering the other man and feeling the threads of the psi connection withdrawing. 

He vaguely wondered if Micah could read his mind, if such a thing was even possible.

Then decided that it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if he could.

“I thought…” Suddenly Micah spoke, his voice low and husky. “I thought that it was just my imagination. A memory that became idealized in my mind.” His voice held a wondering quality to it.

J.D. sighted and rolled over, so he lay on his back next to Micah.

“Yeah. Me too.” J.D. paused for a moment. “It was even better than I remember.”

There was a long silence from the redhead.

“Yeah.” He whispered eventually and it felt like a promise, somehow.

They lay there in silence for a while longer, just letting their bodies cool. It was Micah who moved first. He got up and stripped the tatters of his clothing, standing tall and naked in the dark room, totally unselfconscious.

He stared at the shredded denim and shook his head, not asking anything.

Naked, he padded towards the window and the small table beside it. He rummaged through the mess there until he pulled a pack of cigarettes out and shook one out.

J.D. watched the play of muscles on his surprisingly wide back. Watched the enchanting line of his spine as it slid down his back and pointed at the hard, sculpted cheeks and lower to the firm thighs; he felt around his hips just a moment ago. There was a trail of moisture trailing on the inside of one of Micah’s thighs.

J.D. felt his own cock stir a little.

“You were the one following me?” Asked the redhead after lighting up the cigarette and taking a deep inhale.

J.D. looked at his face.

“Yes.” 

Micah’s face was thoughtful, a little distant, but there was nothing that spoke of anger. The redhead leaned one shoulder on the glass and kept smoking in silence for a few more minutes.

“Why didn’t you come earlier?” 

_If you bothered to come all this way…_ echoed unspoken in the room

J.D. kept silent, watching Micah’s eyes. 

“I wasn’t sure I would be welcomed”

The info screen behind the half-breed kept replaying the same news over and over again.

_“…The latest reports on the string of assassinations of the heads of Threedee Corporation state that the total number of casualties passed one thousand lives. One of the largest and most scientifically advanced Corporations is facing hard times with almost all of their management stall murdered, analytics fear that they might not...”_

Micah suddenly pressed the privacy button and the window went instantly blank. The silence was deafening.

The redhead closed his eyes as he smoked.

“I’m glad you came.” He said finally and J.D. could feel that tightness finally leaving his stomach.

Micah turned again and pressed his forehead to the cool glass. 

J.D. rose from the bed too and stripped his clothing, leaving himself as naked at the man before him. He watched Micah’s back as the redhead watched his reflection in the darkened mirror.

“Why?” He asked finally.

_Why aren’t you afraid? Why do you want me? Why do you trust me not to hurt you?_

“Humans are fallible creatures. We stumble and fall. And then we get up. That’s all there is.” Micah shrugged. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I’m not human.”

In the darkened window he could see the oddly wry twist to the redheaded man lips.

Micah snorted.

“Neither am I.”

J.D. reached him finally and set his hands on those perfect, slim hips. He pressed his thumbs into the firm flesh and parted the cheeks exposing what was between them to his gaze.

He could feel Micah shuddering and then the thin, soft tendrils reaching for his mind again. This time the connection was quicker, easier, almost familiar as he pressed the head of his already fully erect cock to the small, wet opening and pushed.

The redhead moaned and raised both hands to gain leverage on the cool glass, letting his head fall between his shoulders.

J.D. pressed in slow and deep, sliding on the slickness of their previous coupling, until he was pressed with his whole body to Micah. He pressed his teeth gently against the exposed neck and started to move, trying to appease a hunger that could never really be satiated.

Micah told him once, that this was a place to lose himself. For J.D., however, it was the place where he found himself.

 

END


End file.
